Empty Mugs and Coffee Stains
by tumble and fall
Summary: The FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit is filled with some of the brightest minds of our time, although none are brighter than Dr Spencer Reid. With an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, it would be difficult for anyone to challenge him. Well, anyone apart from Dr Nia Larkin.


The forensics lab was a mess. Test tubes and conical flasks filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful chemicals were scattered across highly polished work-surfaces as they awaited attention from one of the dozen machines crammed into the tiny room. The hum of these machines and computers broke through every other noise in the room, the sound so monotonous that it could drive even the calmest of minds to the brink of insanity. It cut through the bell-like chimes of glass hitting glass, through the muffled news report being broadcast throughout the lab from an old radio and through the shuffling footsteps of someone navigating the steel-and-glass maze.

Doctor Nia Larkin was understaffed. The St. Augustine forensics lab had been one of the victims of the latest FBI budget cuts and had lost seven members of staff within the past five months alone. She and the two remaining assistants were run off of their feet almost every day as they struggled to do the work that would have been expected of at least five lab technicians. To make matters worse, Nia's only two colleagues had been called to the Unit Chief's office that morning. The division leader had been acting strange for days and Nia didn't think that the man had travelled from the city centre for a chat and a mug of coffee.

Nia placed both of her hands against one of the icy cold tables, closing her eyes momentarily. Up until three months ago, this job had been her everything. She had enjoyed the early morning starts, she had enjoyed the thick stench of bleach that almost choked her the moment the doors slid open, welcoming her into the lab like an old friend. Now the smell made her feel physically sick and she left her bed every morning knowing that she wouldn't see it again until the ungodly hours of the morning after.

Picking up two conical flasks, Nia crossed the room quickly. She was so focused on dodging the edges of tables and machines that she didn't see her boss walk in. Luckily, she was able to avoid crashing into him completely, spilling the dye in the container down her own pristine white jacket. A stray hair had escaped the confines of the elastic band she had tied her hair up into and she brushed it from her forehead with a smile.

"SSA Hammond. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Nia asked, placing the two flasks on the nearest stable surface. The tall man frowned, adjusting the lapels of his jacket momentarily.

"Doctor Larkin, a pleasure to see you again. Unfortunately, it isn't the best circumstances that bring me to your lab today. I assume that you have been told about the latest budget cuts being applied to our division."

"Of course," Nia nodded, casting her mind back to the financial reports that she had been reading over the past few months, "It's terribly unfortunate."

SSA Hammond nodded, looking around himself. Nia followed his arms as they waved over the machines on either side of the pair. An uneasy feeling swept over Nia as she glanced around at the old machinery.

"You're understaffed. You need new machines. No matter how hard you try, things are only going to get more difficult. As of right now, we don't have the money to give you what you need to make the job any easier. We've decided that the best course of action is to close the lab and move the workload to Tampa."

Nia was gobsmacked. The lack of funds had hit the forensics division badly, but she wasn't expecting to have to vacate the lab that she had run for the past two years.

"So what do I do? Find another job?" Nia asked as soon as she found her voice. She hadn't expected an answer, but to her surprise, SSA Hammond chuckled loudly, shaking his head as a grin tickled the corners of his eyes.

"A highly analytic mind such as your own, Doctor, left to fend for yourself? I wouldn't dream of committing such a terrible act. You've been requested by another department. I assume you've heard of the Behavioural Analysis Unit?"

"Of course. They use psychological profiles to apprehend criminals and have one of the highest success rates within the Bureau itself. Interesting work they do. And if I'm right in saying, they work right out of Quantico itself," Nia rattled off, dredging the basics from an article she had read in the newspaper a few weeks previously.

"Absolutely," SSA Hammond smiled. "I've spoken to Aaron Hotchner – he's the unit chief over there – and there is a spot on his team free. It's yours if you want it."

Once again, Nia was stunned into silence. SSA Hammond smirked at the unusual behaviour from the brunette, handing her a paper file with the FBI logo emblazoned across the front in navy ink.

"When Aaron heard we were shutting down the lab, he requested you personally. You're quite well-known across the Bureau. It isn't often that we find a woman as young as yourself with such a vast level of knowledge.

Hammond gestured to the far wall of the lab, where several certificates for doctorates and various other degrees were hung with extreme care. They were the only decoration in the lab and Nia had insisted that every one of her employees hung their certificates there to fill up the space on the cream wall.

Nia bit her lip as she thought. There were two decisions she could take and not much choice. One; abandon everything she had built up in the three years that she had been working at the bureau, move away and completely forget about her lab. Two; remain in St. Augustine. The second choice would leave her financially crippled and with no solid income. Nia's rational mind weighed out the two decisions extremely quickly.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked with a reluctant sigh. "When do I start?"

"Next week," a beaming SSA Hammond replied, turning on his heel as he got ready to leave the lab. "You will, of course, be responsible for your own accommodation. You'll do a great job over there, I'm sure. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And with that, SSA Hammond slid through the sensor-operated doors, leaving Nia alone once again with the buzzing and spitting of her machines.

* * *

A/N: This is a re-write of a story I wrote between the gap of season seven and eight. Just pretend that season eight doesn't exist. Ha.


End file.
